A Game of Chicken
by Bob the Flying Monkey
Summary: Based off LittleKuriboh's abridged series. Inspired by Marik Plays Bloodlines. Marik and Bakura share an appartment and generally have nothing better to do than hang out and make fun of people. One day, they learn of an American game which could threaten their friendship while simultaneously strengthening their "bond". Being continued after a long pause where I thought I was done!
1. The Initial Challenge

_Disclaimer: I own everything I ever bought ever! Which amounts to a handful of buttons and a cat. In other words, I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh! _or The Abridged Series or any other fan-based parodies._

**A/N: In honor of my new-found addiction to Marik/Bakura romances (not yaio cuz I don't like sex), I am endeavoring to write my own. Maybe then I will quench my thirst. Doubtful.**

* * *

"Bakura, could you pass me the chips?" Marik asked from his computer.

"They're right behind you, on your bed. Get them yourself."

"But I'm in the middle of a very important video game! Quit being self-centered, get off your lazy bum, and hand them to me!"

Bakura groaned, pushing off like a tired rocket from his bed on the opposite wall and taking the few short strides to Marik's bed, his long, white legs masked by his white slacks. "Here, you pathetic, ungrateful diva."

Marik took one out of the box and ate it without looking, then spat it out on the floor. "What are you trying to do? Poison me! Those aren't chips; those are fries. They'll make me fat and ruin my figure! Now I know why I never made you my mind-slave – you don't have a brain!"

"These are chips, you pompous, snout-faced buffoon! If you wanted the Wheat Thins, you should have asked for crackers. Your ridiculous amount of hair has overheated and melted your brain, which wasn't much to begin with."

"Why are there fries on my bed in the first place? Are you trying to get grease-stains on my sheets? I knew you had an irrational hatred for purple, but you've gone too far."

Just then, a loud bang from their apartment door startled them, and a voice from the other side boomed, "Quit arguing, you queers! Get out of the apartment for a while and give us some peace."

"Worst neighbors ever," Marik huffed, logging off his computer. He shoved Bakura lightly, "Come on, let's go hang out in the park."

…

The glowering sun baked the mid-summer air and sent rivets of sweat streaming down the folds of the plumper bodies that rushed about wildly in the open of the public park. Here and there, clusters of freaky-haired teens stood in a circle with their oblong eyes glued to a pair of battling duelists. Bakura and Marik passed idly by these clumps with snotty disregard, their stride so in sync they could have easily been mistaken as members of a boy band. They headed listlessly to their preferred people-watching spot – the fountain.

"Bakura, who are those tacky mortals sitting on our bench?" Marik demanded as they entered the circular walkway possessing the fountain. A group of four boys were horsing around one of the six benches in the circle. The other five were uninhabited.

"A gang of wankers, if you ask me," he replied coolly.

"Hey!" one of the taller boys called over to them, "You wanna play a game with us?"

"Game? What kind of game?" Marik asked, "A children's card game, perhaps?"

"Uh, no, dude. It's an American game. It's called Gay Chicken."

"What?" Marik exclaimed, taken aback. "What kind of game is that?"

"The way you play is two guys face each other and lean forward like they're gonna kiss, and whoever pulls away first loses. Like so." The tall kid pushed the two shorter boys together. They grimaced, but the tall one gave them a stern look, so they faced each other. The blonde boy inched his face closer to the ginger. The ginger allowed this transaction unwillingly, but as soon as their faces were five inches apart, he turned his head. "See, now Mike is the winner. Ron never has the balls to do it."

"Because I'm not gay!" Ron exclaimed.

"I'm not either," Mike said defensively.

"This game looks stupid," Bakura surmised, turning away and grabbing Marik by the elbow. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Looks like someone's homophobic," Marik teased.

"I am not. It's just a stupid game, is all."

"You only think that because you're too chicken to ever win it."

"I could beat you at Gay Chicken any day."

"Is that a challenge, Bakura?"

"For you, it is."

"Then I accept your challenge. We'll see who can win Gay Chicken later tonight."

* * *

That evening, when they returned to the apartment, Marik and Bakura faced off for their first game of Gay Chicken.

"So how are we supposed to go about doing this, Bakura?"

"You know the rules as well as I do."

"Yes, but do we sit down or stand up or what?"

"I'd prefer to stand." Bakura crossed his arms. He stood toe-to-toe with Marik, their eyes (and lips) even.

Marik gulped. "You start."

"Typical, Marik. I have to be the leader with everything in this house."

"I'm paying for the apartment, so don't get snippy with me, Fluffy."

"Shut up and play the game."

"Fine, I'll start. But only because I'm manlier than you."

"You wish, Diva."

Marik glared into Bakura's eyes, his tan lips in a tight line below his nose. Slowly, he leaned his face toward Bakura's face, who responded with the like. They neared each other at a snail's pace, their eyes never leaving the other's. When the tips of their noses were three-quarters of an inch apart, they stopped.

"You're spineless, Marik," Bakura said in a hushed rumble, "You'd never do it. You'll have to pull away first, or we'll stay this way all night, because I won't lose to you. I actually have a back bone, and I –" He was cut off by Marik's lips pressing softly against his. Bakura reared back and wiped his mouth emphatically. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

"You lose. You pulled away first," Marik taunted triumphantly, strolling casually into the bathroom.

"That – that's cheating," Bakura stammered in dismay.

"Face it, Bakura," Marik replied from behind the closed door, "I can beat you at a children's card game, and I can beat you at Gay Chicken. You are less of a man than I."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, this story will have short chapters. It's way too hard to make a story with chapters as long as Excessive Misbehavior's chapters. By the way, this story was written before "Your Cruise Ship Plays Card Games in Hell" but I forgot to post it because I got distracted by that story. Anyway, read and enjoy.**


	2. The Broken Thing That Fixed Them

_Disclaimer: I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh_ because I have an irrational fear of things that start with 'y'. I also do not own a yo-yo *cringe*._

**A/N: My second installment of this strange, tiny story. All the readers who like this shipping should immediately go out and write a better fanfic than this one. Then suggest it to me. I will read it, if it is worthy of my time. Make it worthy of my time. Now down to business. Enjoy this psychotic use of my time!**

* * *

The next morning, Bakura woke up in a pool of sweat. _Oh bugger, _he thought, _I hope I didn't pee myself again._ But upon checking the thermostat and finding that the temperature was 85° F, he confirmed that it was indeed sweat. He turned the dial to 75 and hopped into the shower.

Not long into his shower, he was interrupted by Marik's persistent banging on the bathroom door. "Bakura, hurry up! You are going to use up all the hot water and I won't get any."

"Bugger off! I never get to use the shower first."

When he was finished, he tied a towel around his waist and pushed open the door, flooding the rest of the apartment with steam. "Marik, did you turn the thermostat up? It's hot as leather pants in here."

"No, I turned it down to 65 because you had it too hot."

"It must be broken. Stupid, crappy apartment. You're the cheapest guy I've ever lived with."

"Oh? And just how many guys have you lived with?" Marik teased with a smirk.

"Shove it, Marik," Bakura sneered, "You know what I mean."

"Well, if you think it's broken, go and complain to management. That'll make them fix it faster."

So Bakura got dressed and stomped down the stairs to the front desk. "The air conditioner is broken."

"I know," the fat man behind the desk said, wiping his nose, "The whole system is down. I've already called the repair man. He should be here next Tuesday."

"Next Tuesday! What an obscenely absurd amount of time to wait."

"You got a problem with it, pay someone better. But if you're not gonna, get out of my face, pal."

Bakura crossed his arms and stormed back upstairs and into his room. "Marik, he said –"

"Bakura, I'm dressing! Close the door!" Marik pulled his shirt over his head and adjusted it to advertise his midriff. He flipped his newly-dried hair around and smoothed it into well-defined sections. "Honestly, Fluffy, you are so lucky. You don't have to do anything to your hair, and it looks gorgeous."

"Oh yes, because I have so much natural beauty," he huffed, his eyes dashing from Marik's midriff to his face and back again.

"Well, of course you do, Bakura. I would kill all of my mind-slaves to have a face like yours. Except not as white, of course, because that wouldn't match the rest of my flawlessly tan body."

"I don't care. Let's get out of here. It can't be any hotter outside than it is in here." He grabbed Marik's wrist and drug him down the stairs.

"Let's go throw licorice beans at little kids. That's always fun," Marik suggested.

Bakura grinned evilly, "I couldn't agree more."

* * *

In the park, the two white-haired teens entertained their evil side with throwing black jelly beans at the spherical children waddling around in the grass. It turned out to be a good adventure on account of several children started crying from the nasty taste of the candy. When they had run out of jellies, they glided through the streets of Battle City and made bets on the outcomes of several duels.

By the third amateur duel, Bakura was bored, and freely told Marik so.

"What would you have us do instead?" Marik asked, not too fond of the tacky duelists himself.

"A rematch," Bakura suggested, an evil glint illuminating his dark eyes.

"You have no hope of beating me at a children's card game –"

"I was thinking of a different game. One a little more… pressing." Bakura flashed him an insinuative smirk.

"Oh. I see. You won't beat me at that, either. I am not afraid to leave my comfort zone. For Ra sake, I lived in a tomb all my life. I don't have a comfort zone."

"Then I will make it too uncomfortable for you to handle."

"I doubt you have the balls to make me that uncomfortable."

"So you accept my challenge?"

"Name the place."

Bakura's grin widened to an almost-maddening degree. "I know the perfect place. It's only a few blocks from here, but I must warn you, it will be hot."

"Hello. Egyptian. Nothing is too hot for me."

"Except me, of course," Bakura muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing." Bakura led him down the streets and through the deserted back alleys. The further downtown they went, the fewer people they met. Finally, Bakura, forced open a rusty back door and pulled Marik inside.

"What is this place?" Marik asked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness.

"It used to be a dance studio, but it's been abandoned for years. It's unreal how many of the buildings are abandoned in this city. Now let me show you upstairs."

"Fluffy, are you sure this place isn't condemned? The floor boards look rotten."

"That's how dance studios look. They have special floors for the slippers dancers wear."

"You know a suspicious amount about this. Are you sure you don't want to confess to something?"

Bakura rolled his eyes and pushed open a red door with a crumbling star on it. The room was a few square feet smaller than their own bedroom, but it was mostly empty except for a sofa covered in plastic. Bakura removed the cover to reveal a deep-blue couch that looked surprisingly inviting.

"Now for the rematch," Bakura said, looking into Marik's lavender eyes. Marik nodded. They began creeping towards each other, their eyelids slowly drooping as their lips came near to touching. As before, they paused three-quarters of an inch apart.

"Are you going to taunt me before I show you up?" Marik asked.

"Are you going to stall before you lose the game?" Bakura countered.

"I never lose."

"Could have fooled me."

"You are easily fooled."

"You have no back bone."

"I proved you wrong last time when I kissed you."

"Prove me wrong again." And so he did. Marik gently pressed his lips to Bakura's. Bakura did not flinch, did not move.

_How long are we going to stay like this?_ Marik asked telepathically.

In response, Bakura closed his eyes and started moving his mouth in tiny, conjoined kisses. Marik began to pull away in surprise, but stopped himself, intent on winning this duel. So instead, he began to kiss Bakura back, softly, soundlessly, and his eyes sealed themselves automatically. And the couple stood kissing until Marik asked, _Did you honestly think this is too uncomfortable for me?_

_I'm not finished yet,_ he replied, and took Marik's bottom lip between his, teasing open his mouth. Cautiously, his tongue ventured inside Marik's mouth, which clamped shut in protest. _You're losing,_ Bakura taunted.

Marik pushed his own tongue into Bakura's mouth, trailing the pink muscle across his lip and lashing the other tongue gently. _I won't lose. You can't beat me at this._

_I've only just begun._ Bakura entwined his fingers into Marik's bountiful locks and caressed his scalp, eliciting a moan from the boy. Marik grasped a handful of Bakura's hair and forced back his head, moving his lips to his jawbone, making his way luxuriously down his neck. "Oh, Ra," Bakura moaned, attacking Marik's neck in kind.

_What else did you have planned?_ Marik asked in amusement, _Because I'm still not uncomfortable._

_I'm just a moan short of tearing off your clothes._

Marik nibbled Bakura's earlobe, and another moan escaped his lips. _There goes your moan._

_And there goes your clothes._ Bakura slid his hands under Marik's top and began pulling it up. Before either could bat an eye, both boys were topless, caressing each other's naked flesh. Bakura backed up and sat clumsily on the couch, still attached to Marik's lips. He straddled his lap and continued to kiss him. Bakura's hands slid down his chest and landed on his hips, tugging at his bothersome belt. Without opening his eyes, he unlatched it and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor atop the two shirts. He wedged his pale fingers into Marik's belt-band and teasingly wiggled them.

"Ok," Marik moaned, pulling away at last. "You win. I pulled away first."

"Did I make you too uncomfortable?" Bakura asked, a tinge of real concern in his jesting voice.

"Wasn't that what you were going for?"

"Maybe at first, but I thought we were really hitting it off."

"We were, but I'm done. I need a break. Need to catch my breath." He plopped down on the couch next to Bakura and leaned back, breathing heavily.

"No offense, but that was better than any card game."

Marik laughed airily. He turned his head to face Bakura and offered him a genuine smile. Bakura's arm glided around his shoulders and pulled him into his lap, meeting no resistance. "How's that for a rematch?"

"I'm up for another one," he chuckled in his deep voice. "The question is, are you?"

"I'm content to sit here for a while."

"You sound like a virgin," Bakura remarked.

"Well, there's a reason for that," Marik huffed, crossing his arms.

"Oh, right. The whole tomb-thing. I almost forgot."

"Yes, well I'd love to know who you found that would take you with that attitude."

"You want the truth? I'm a virgin, too. What do you expect from a school-age kid with white hair who wears a necklace and a sweater vest?"

"You don't wear the sweater vest anymore."

"But I did, and it never goes away. Not from the memories of my peers."

"I never knew you with a sweater vest," Marik said, sliding his finger down Bakura's chest.

Bakura grinned. "So we could work."

"I believe so. As long as you don't stop me from taking over the world."

"I will gladly help you plot."

* * *

**A/N: Grumble grumble. Gushy crap. This is what I've been reduced to. Alright, I'll try to make the rest of the chapters more interesting, but no promises. **


	3. A Big Mess of Fluff

_Disclaimer: I realized what the point of this italicized portion was. To annoy me. Also to force me to repeat myself over and over again in a redundant sort of way so that I repeat the same information that I've just said and say it once more. I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ I do, however, own over 300 duel monsters. I'm not sure how much over, though._

**A/N: These chapters are meant to be short. I've been typing one every night since I started. I don't know when I'll post them, but they should flow pretty well. Spoiler Alert: I don't know the ending yet. Neither do you. Now we're even.**

* * *

When they got home, the central air was still out of order, so as soon as they shut their room door, the shirts hit the floor.

"Oh my Egyptian god cards!" Marik exclaimed, "Your chest is even more sexy in the light."

Bakura grinned. "And somehow yours is mysteriously tanner than I remember."

"Your surprise is amusing. I have the body of an Egyptian god. Minus the freaky animal head."

"I don't know about that," Bakura said, picking up a protruding lock of white hair, "You have rabbit ears."

"I do not!" Marik protested, slapping away his hand. "You're just jealous that your hair lacks the natural body so abundant in mine."

"Of course, Diva. That's what I'm jealous of." He turned around and sat on the bed. Then his stomach growled. He looked up at Marik. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Video games," Marik answered, heading directly to his computer.

"I meant for dinner."

"I don't care. Something that won't give me indigestion."

"How does fried rice and chicken sound?"

"Sounds good. Here, take my credit card."

Bakura swept out of the room and down to the local Chinese restaurant. He ordered the food and returned to the apartment.

"Marik, I couldn't remember your pin number, so I…" he trailed off as he took in the sight before him. Marik was sitting in one corner of his bed, looking through page upon page of notes scattered all over the rest of the bed, leaving not an inch of bed uncovered save for where he sat.

Marik looked up nonchalantly, "What?"

Bakura exploded. "Why did you cover my entire bed with papers?"

"I needed room. I'm trying to come up with a new strategy for the next time I face the Pharaoh."

"But why didn't you use your bed?"

"Because I have to sleep there tonight. Obviously."

"Where am I supposed to sleep, then?"

Marik looked over the papers as if just realizing the problem. "Oh. I guess you'll have to sleep in my bed tonight."

"Sleep in your bed. With you?"

"Of course, Fluffy. I'm not going to sleep on the floor while you have the luxury of my bed. We can share it tonight, and tomorrow I will clean up my mess."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fine. I just don't understand how I can leave you alone for less than 20 minutes and you make this much of a mess."

"You should know this one, Bakura. I have an excess of talent and many different skills. You should see my door-opening skills." The two of them ate their food in peace.

When they were ready for bed, Bakura tore his pillow out from under his comforter and dropped it onto the empty side of Marik's bed. He threw his shoes and socks into the corner and turned to find Marik stripped down to only his underwear.

"What?" Marik remarked defensively, "I always sleep in my boxer-shorts alone."

"I do as well, but it seems inappropriate since we are sharing a bed."

"Don't expect me to change for you, white boy. You're cute, but you're not that cute."

"I'm not, eh?" he challenged, taking off his pants and tossing them with the rest of his shed clothes.

"Not yet, but getting there," he amended. Marik slid under the covers. "Hit the light, will you?"

"This one time, I'll do it. But don't get used to it." Bakura flipped off the light, submerging the room in total darkness. Cautiously, he felt his way over to the bed and, finding his pillow, slipped in between the covers. Immediately, he felt thin, warm arms wrap around his sternum as a soft, fluffy head came to rest against his neck. Bakura chuckled. "Was this your plan all along?"

"As soon as you were out the door."

"I must commend you. You work fast."

"As I said, I have talent."

Bakura turned his head and kissed Marik between the eyes. Marik nuzzled his jaw and kissed the crook of his neck lightly. He trailed his fingers down the naked chest beneath them, taking a loop around his belly button and returning to his pectorals.

"Turn over," Bakura whispered, and he complied. He began kissing his neck, eliciting soft moans from Marik. He sucked at the tender skin, caressing it with his tongue. Then he began a trail of kisses down his spine until he reached a peculiar bump. He stopped, ran his palm along it.

Marik flipped over suddenly, facing him. "Hey, Bakura. I've got an idea. You turn over."

Bakura caught the panic in his voice, but didn't want to rile him up, so he flipped over. Marik curled himself around Bakura and rested his arm across his pale stomach. He breathed down his neck, and Bakura shivered. He kissed Bakura's cheek, then settled into his pillow. "Goodnight, Bakura."

"Goodnight, Marik."

* * *

**A/N: More to come soon. Chapter four is almost finished. Leave me a review and you'll feel better about yourself.**


	4. Daddy Issues

_Disclaimer: If you heard of it before you heard of me, it is safe to assume I don't own it. _

**A/N: I'm getting this one up quickly, but it might take a while for the fifth chapter to be posted. Bear with me, and I'm sure I'll learn to write quicker eventually. PS: thank my awesome computer for correcting my grammar – it does a beautiful job, really. **

* * *

When Bakura woke up, he was surprised to find himself wrapped around the tan body of an Egyptian grave-keeper's son. The face snuggled into his bare chest looked peaceful and innocent. Impulsively, he stroked his hair with the hand attached to the arm under Marik's head.

Marik sighed in his sleep and mumbled, "Fluffy." Then he tightened his arms around Bakura and snuggled closer to him. Bakura tensed, not yet used to such intimacy. But when Marik did not back off, Bakura relaxed and wrapped his arms around the thin duelist. He kissed Marik on the forehead and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Marik was faintly aware that Bakura had embraced him more securely than before, but had no intention of alerting Bakura to the fact he knew. Instead, he breathed in sync with his new-found love-interest and let the body heat between them calm his fluttering stomach. Stealthily, he opened a heavy-laden eyelid and checked Bakura's level of awareness. The faint smile on the white boy's lips brought about an equal smile from Marik, and he returned to a state of slumber.

It took several phone calls from Odion before the boys became restless enough to separate and get dressed for the day. On the fourth consecutive call, Marik picked up the phone and shouted, "What is it?" Bakura watched him as he visibly became angrier, his scowl deepening by the second. "Tell the Steves they can run around today. I'm sick, alright? Just keep them out of the downtown area." Another pause. "If I see a single Rare Hunter today, I will personally chop off his head. Then his family's heads. Then your head." He hung up. "Stupid mind-slaves," he muttered to himself.

"Ra, Marik! That is the sexist you've ever been angry."

Marik smiled, saying, "Oh, shut up."

Bakura sat down and pulled his t-shirt snuggly over his torso. He looked at Marik and watched him pick out a provocative shirt for the day. It was then that he saw Marik's naked back for the first time. "Marik, what's that on your back?"

Marik visibly tensed. He turned to face Bakura. "You weren't supposed to see that. But I guess since you already have, I'll tell you anyway. My dad carved it into my back when I was a child. And then I killed him. I didn't much care for my dad."

"Wait a minute. Are you saying you have daddy-issues?"

"Yes."

"Fan-freaking-tastic," Bakura groaned. "And there I was thinking we had an actual shot."

"What do you mean, Bakura? What does my father have to do with this?"

"Generally when a person has daddy-issues, they sleep with a lot of guys to rebel against their father. Which means that you'll dump me soon for some other guy."

"Don't be ridiculous, Fluffy. You're the second hottest guy I know – after me, of course. Besides, there aren't any other gay guys that appeal to me."

"You say that now. Wait until we get out into the real world. There will be plenty of guys willing to sleep with you. Some of them will even be hotter than me."

"But none of them will be as amusing as you. And none of them will be Fluffy. Face it, Bakura. You will always be my kitty." He plopped down into Bakura's lap and ruffled his hair.

Bakura growled, but wrapped his arms around Marik and hugged him briefly. "Alright, let's go find something to destroy before this gets too mushy."

* * *

**A/N: Yessir, another brilliant chapter that my cat had the grace of proof-reading for me. He's only 7 weeks old – we're so proud of him!**


	5. Slip of the Tongue

_Disclaimer: This fanfic is the byproduct of watching too much _Yu-Gi-Oh! _and YGOTAS, neither of which do I own. But I do own an action figure of Slifer the Sky Dragon (my boyfriend bought it for me). _

**A/N: Hey, you got lucky. I stalked the Muses into an alley and tore the inspiration for this chapter from their hands. Now I can write this instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour (but I wouldn't go to bed on time anyway).**

* * *

"Bakura, I've got an idea," Marik announced as they sauntered down the street with the afternoon sun riding on their backs.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear it," he sighed.

"No, no. It's a good plan. Well, technically it's an evil plan, but –"

"Marik, as much as I enjoy doing evil things with you, you know your plans are never evil, right?"

"Precisely why my plan was to let you plan the evil."

Bakura stopped and focused on Marik. "What was that?"

"You make the plan – be as evil as you desire – and I will help you execute it."

"You're serious about this? You'd actually let me make an evil plan?"

Marik nodded. "I figure it would make you happy. Besides, everyone needs a little entertainment in their life, and being evil is your favorite pastime."

"Marik, you do realize you are potentially putting the fate of the world in my hands?"

"Yes, well, what would life be without the threat of impending doom to spice it up?"

Bakura's eyes shimmered. "Marik, I – I don't know what to say. This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Marik waved him off. "Don't get used to it. This is a one-time thing, possibly because the world might end when we're through." He started to continue walking, but Bakura grabbed him and planted a full three-second kiss on his lips.

"You stupid Diva. Why do you make me love you so much?" Bakura took his hand and tugged him away while Marik stumbled along behind him before the shock wore off.

"Bakura," he began, but they were walking too fast for him to get the words out. When they finally stopped in front of a random bakery because Bakura was out of breath, Marik tried again. "You said… you said you love me."

Bakura nodded as he took several deep breaths. "I did."

"Well that's annoying," Marik replied.

Bakura whipped his head up and glared at Marik with blazing eyes. "What?"

"It's just that I wanted to be the first one to say it," Marik pouted.

Bakura threw back his head and laughed in relief. "Ra, Marik! You had me for a moment."

"Oh, Fluffy, you know I love you."

"I love you, too. But if you ever tell anyone, I'll send you to the Shadow Realm."

"And if you tell, I'll take you with me," Marik smirked.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, it is very short, sorry. I'll be away all next week, so I won't be able to update then. Bear with me and hopefully we can make it through alive. At least you know this means I'll have a lot more done to post after I get back.**


	6. Deus Ex Machina

_Disclaimer: I don't have enough creativity left over after writing this chapter, so I can't tell you anything funny in the disclaimer other than that I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, which actually isn't funny but rather depressing. _

**A/N: No, I didn't die. I was just dehydrated – I was low on creative juice. But I'm receiving treatment, and I managed another chapter just for you. Enjoy.**

* * *

"Ack! I hate school. It's completely useless to an aspiring King of Games such as myself," Marik complained as he walked into Domino High with Bakura Monday morning.

"I'm just as annoyed as you, believe me, but this is the best way to get inside Yugi's head. If we are going to defeat him, we have to know how he acts around his friends," Bakura explained, adding, "By the way, I'm going to pretend to be my good self; that way, they won't be so suspicious."

"Will that work?" Marik asked skeptically.

"Marik, they're the good guys. Of course it will work – good people are always fools." They pushed open the classroom door just as the bell rang and hurried to their seats in the back.

"Oh great, it's them," Joey grumbled, leaning back in his chair and pulling his hair over his eyes, "Wake me when the teach leaves."

The teacher eyed the unfamiliar Egyptian with lazy suspicion, but dismissed the hints of trouble and addressed the class. "Kids, I have an urgent appointment with another employer who pays much better than the school district. If you can manage to keep my absence a secret, I won't give you homework this week. And if I get the job, I won't give you homework ever again. I'll be back after lunch." The teacher quickly exited the room.

"Alright, a free day!" Joey exclaimed, whipping out his deck, "I am so using this time to improve my game."

"What game?" Kaiba asked, slamming his briefcase down on the table beside him.

"Nyah, why are you here, Kaiba? Aren't you too old for this class?"

"I'm a monitor, flee-brain. I'm just here because I don't have class this period, and the only other option was spending the time with Mokuba."

"Shouldn't you have graduated by now?"

"Shouldn't you be house-trained by now?" Kaiba retorted.

"Listen here, ya spoiled brat!" Joey jumped to his feet, but Kaiba smirked and took a seat at the end of the table.

"I'm just here to watch Yugi duel. I would teach you a lesson, Wheeler, but school isn't the right place for that." Kaiba looked at Yugi expectantly.

Yugi rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine, but this whole being-the-best thing gets monotonous after a while. I want a real challenge."

"The doctor says I'm challenged," Tristan volunteered as he dropped into the chair across from Yugi.

"Tristan, do you even know how to duel?" Yugi asked.

"I watch the Card Game Channel. I can play as well as the next guy."

"Oh, this looks amusing," Bakura snickered from the back corner. "Come on, Marik, let's get a better view."

"But Bakura, this duel is pointless. Tristan doesn't even have basic logic skills. He has no hope of beating Yugi."

"Precisely why it would be entertaining." Bakura pulled up a chair beside Kaiba, and Marik sat next to him.

"Are we doing this with or without the Tribute rule?" Yugi asked as he shuffled his cards.

"What's a Tribute?" Tristan asked.

"Without, then." Yugi drew his cards and tossed a friendly smile at Tristan. "Are you ready?"

"Would anyone like to put money on this duel?" Joey asked.

"I bet $100 million that Yugi wins," Kaiba said.

Bakura smirked to himself, then said to Kaiba in his innocent voice, "I'll take the bet."

The entire table – including Marik – eyed Bakura in disbelief. Yugi said, "Um, Bakura, I don't think you want to do that."

"Oh, nonsense! I think Tristan stands a real chance," Bakura replied in the sincerest of voices.

"No offense, Bakura, but you been in a coma for most of Yugi's duels. You clearly don't know how good a duelist he is," Joey declared.

"Just let the kid make his bet," Kaiba decided. He turned to Bakura, "I accept your challenge."

"Oh, goodie!" Bakura giggled.

"Bakura, would you show me where the bathroom is?" Marik asked, standing up and pulling Bakura to his feet as well.

"I suppose I could." They left the room together.

Once they were securely alone in the hallway, Marik gripped Bakura by the shoulders. "Are you crazy? You can't afford that bet. Plus, there's no way Tristan could ever beat Yugi at a children's card game."

Bakura pushed Marik off of him, crossing his arms in protest. "I don't plan on paying him the money, you fool. The bet's not legally binding, and even if he did call the law on me, I'm underage and he shouldn't be gambling with a minor, anyway. Besides, it's Kaiba. He doesn't need the money bad enough to cause a fight over it. You're blowing this way out of proportion."

Marik frowned. "I still don't think you should have done it."

"What would you rather me do instead?"

Marik smirked, wrapping his arms around Bakura. "Something naughty we'd both regret."

"Oh, I don't think I'll regret it." He kissed Marik, pushing him against the lockers and trapping him between his arms. "Would you like to go back and watch the duel, or would another occupation suit you better?"

"I'm good right here." And they kissed again, kissed without regard for the security cameras posted at the ends of the hallways, kissed until an uproar from inside interrupted them. Marik went to the window to peer inside, then pulled open the door and vanished. Bakura, quite irritated at the Egyptian's short attention span, followed him in to find that Yugi and Tristan's duel was over.

Kaiba attacked him first. "How the hell did you know he would win?"

Bakura threw up his arms defensively. "What are you talking about?"

"Tristan won the duel," Joey declared.

"You're pulling my leg," Bakura said, still using his innocent voice, "This is a joke." But then he saw Yugi's baffled face, staring slack-jawed at the playing field. Tea was behind him, her arms wrapped sympathetically around his chest. "Holy Ra! How did Tristan manage to do that?"

"He banished Kuriboh from the duel," Kaiba explained, his face lighting up with superiority. He turned to Yugi and taunted, "Now I know your weakness, Yugi. You are nothing without your Dues Ex Machina monster."

"I guess a duelist really is as strong as his weakest card," Tristan said, strutting out of the room since the bell had rung. "Lunch time."

Kaiba pulled out a checkbook. "So, is a check okay, or what?"

Bakura's smile wavered. "Are you serious?"

"Listen, kid. $100 million is well worth the embarrassment this duel caused Yugi. You want the money or not?"

Bakura nodded, resumed his smile. He accepted the check from Kaiba and returned to Marik's side. As he walked out the door, Kaiba announced to his collar, "Put the video on YouTube. I expect a million hits when I leave school, or you're fired."

Bakura and Marik cackled loudly as they left the room together. "Now Yugi's defeat will be all over the internet!" Bakura cheered, "He will have nowhere to hide from his shame."

"Bakura, how do you know that check is real?" Marik asked.

"We'll deposit it in my account on our way home. If it's not real, I'll just send Kaiba to the Shadow Realm."

* * *

As they were walking back to the apartment after school, Marik commented, "This was a good day, Bakura. Kaiba honored his bet, and Yugi Moto was defeated by the worst duelist in the known universe. I should go to school with you more often."

"School? I'm not going back to school. I've got $100 million! I'm going to dedicate my life to being evil. We can start on that plan you were talking about the other day."

"The evil one you're plotting without restrictions?" Marik asked.

"That's the one. I've started on an outline so we can foresee any possible setbacks before we begin. We can review it when we get back to the apartment."

"We should celebrate," Marik said suddenly, squeezing Bakura's hand.

Bakura smiled at him. "And how would you have us celebrate?"

"With a game of gay chicken."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, the writer's block I was sick with has finally left me. Now leave a review so I have something to read when I check my email.**


	7. Blurring the Lines

_Disclaimer: No tengo las copyrights para Yu-Gi-Oh!_

**A/N: It took me forever to actually end this story. Don't know why, but it did.**

* * *

The apartment hadn't cooled any since Marik and Bakura had gotten home from school. "When did you say the air was supposed to be fixed?" Marik asked.

"Tomorrow," Bakura answered, "Unless we want to pay someone better."

"Pay someone better? Why don't we do that! You have money now."

Bakura scoffed. "Why would I waste my money on this dump when I can afford a much better apartment, or a house for that matter?"

"If you bought a house, I'd be all alone in this crappy room." Marik griped.

"Don't be absurd. I'd put you up in my house. Good roommates are hard to come by."

Marik wrapped his arms around Bakura. "That's why you're my favorite, Fluffy."

Bakura pushed Marik's hair aside and kissed his forehead. "Alright, let's get to work." He slipped out of the Egyptian's arms and pulled up a chair to their dining table where an organized disaster of papers lay strewn about. Bakura picked up a stack and swept away the rest of the papers from his spot at the table. He beckoned Marik with a finger, then smoothed a larger sheet out in front of them. "This is the blueprint for my master piece," he explained.

"What does it do?" Marik asked.

"It destroys the border between this realm of existence and the others. Everything that was locked away to keep the world safe will be unleashed."

"How is that possible?"

"Via the use of Millennium Items."

Marik looked at Bakura with one brow raised. "Seriously? You're back on this shtick again?"

"You said no objections," Bakura reminded, rolling up the blueprint and placing it in a canister.

"How are you going to get these Items?" Marik asked.

"It's simple. We defeat the Pharaoh."

"If it was so simple, why haven't you done it yet?"

"Because I've been incapacitated for most of the opportunities I've had to do it. Clearly. But first, I must obtain the other Items."

"Well, I know where one is for sure, but nobody knows what happened to Pegasus's Eye after Duelist Kingdom."

Bakura smirked. "We can leave that for later. The ones I need first are the Necklace and the Key. Those will help me defeat the Pharaoh."

Marik crossed his arms and fingered his Rod thoughtfully. "I can get you the Necklace, but the Key is much harder. Some gypsy ghost-guy has that, and the last time I saw him was when I killed my father. So unless you have a spare father lying around you wouldn't mind killing, I have no idea how you would summon him."

"Hmm," Bakura pondered, pursing his lips and rubbing his chin, "If I had a beard, I might could figure it out easily. But alas, I am clean shaven."

"You would look gross with a beard," Marik surmised , knocking Bakura's hand away from his chin and wedging himself between the table and his knees so that he was straddling his lap, commanding his full attention. He brushed his lips across the white, hairless chin and said softly, "I like you the way you are now."

Bakura smirked. "I'd say the same, but I actually prefer you naked." He pulled at his clothes as their lips reattached like hot, passionate magnets, meshing like the tectonics of the world. Then the plates moved, and Bakura's chair tipped backward, spilling the couple onto the dingy carpet. Bakura rubbed the back of his head. "Ow." Marik scrambled off of him and helped him to his feet, then sat him on the bed and fussed over his injury. Bakura swatted his hands away. "I'm fine, Marik. It's just a bump. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"Lay down and let me take care of you," Marik insisted, pulling down the sheets and pushing on his chest lightly. When Bakura didn't lay down, Marik used his epic pouting maneuver, and Bakura rolled his eyes but complied. Marik smiled victoriously and demanded, "Now take off your clothes and get comfortable. I'll make you some soup." He dashed into the kitchen, leaving Bakura to prepare for bed. He chuckled quietly to himself and stripped to his underwear like a good patient.

Marik returned with the soup and insisted that he spoon-feed Bakura while he relaxed in bed. "You know, this nice act has me suspicious that you're trying to get my money."

"Actually, it's your body I'm after. The money is just a nice bonus," Marik replied.

"Tell you what, Diva. You can have my body if you give me yours in exchange."

Marik shrugged. "I guess that's fair. How should we make this deal official?"

Bakura slipped his fist under Marik's chin and brought it to his lips. He whispered, "Let's seal it with a kiss."

* * *

**A/N: At last, my evil plan has come together! Now you are all addicted! Or not, but oh well. I hope you enjoyed this psychotic use of my time!**


	8. Klimt

_Disclaimer: Being very beautiful is not synonymous with being Japanese. Therefore, I do not own _Yu-Gi-Oh_ or the ability to make logical arguments._

**A/N: At last I have finished the next chapter! You may read and enjoy, but you may not explode. Exploding would be bad.**

* * *

The first thing Bakura remembered when he woke up this morning was being blinded by a horribly inconsiderate sun and its tan teacher's pet. He'd groaned and slammed his pillow down over his eyes, but the devil-spawn persistently rolled him out of bed and forced him into his clothes. Now, Bakura was leaning against the wall of a Victorian-style mansion with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, listening to the real-estate agent-lady prattle on about the history of the house and how many "noblemen" had lived in it. This was the sixth house Marik had picked out since he'd started searching two weeks ago, and Bakura hated this one as much as the first five.

"And now if you'll follow me to the West Wing…" the woman said.

"Sod your wings. Marik, this is bloody absurd. We don't need a house this big. I don't think even a family of Mormons could fill this house."

Marik glared at him, then flipped his hair and stuck his nose in the air. "If you think you can do better, then you pick the next one."

"I plan on it." He grabbed Marik's wrist and dragged him back to the car, the squatty woman trampling after them. He pushed the Egyptian into the back seat, then handed the huffing woman a scrap of paper. "Take us to this address."

The woman examined the address. "But I don't – " she glanced up at Bakura's glaring face, gulped, and piled into the front seat, "Yes, sir."

Bakura buckled himself in next to Marik and pulled a black tie from his pocket. "What are you doing with that – AAH!" Marik protested as Bakura wrapped it around his eyes. He struggled against the band, but Bakura slapped his hands.

"Stop resisting. I just want you to be surprised when I show you this house."

Marik crossed his arms and pouted. "You think you know what I like better than I do?"

"It doesn't matter. I _know_ you will like this house." Bakura slipped his arm behind the Egyptian's neck and pecked him quickly on the forehead before the woman could see. Marik continued to pout, although didn't object any further.

When he head Bakura say, "Turn here," and felt the car slow down, Marik became restless, and demanded, "Are we almost there?"

In response, Bakura pulled off his blindfold, grabbed his face gently, and turned his eyes to the right window. Marik gasped, shot across Bakura's lap, and pressed his face to the window. The house had two levels – three if you counted the attic peering out over the lawn – with white paint and purple shudders, a spacious, wrap-around porch with figures etched into the handrails, and two ionic support columns on either side of the front door. As the car pulled into the driveway, Marik's eyes widened in wonder at the beautiful garden behind the house. There were fountains – two that he could see – and a small koi pond with a miniature waterfall flowing down the side of a smooth, stony ledge. Marik jumped out of the car and ran to the pond, only then noticing the porch swing next to the back door. He looked up at Bakura with shimmering eyes and whispered, "I love you."

"I know. Would you like to see the inside?" He offered the Egyptian his hand, then pulled him to his feet and walked him up the back stairs. He fished around in his pocket and brought out an old-fashioned key with intricate, rustic detailing of a lynx lightly garbed in tendrils of vines. He pushed open the door and motioned for Marik to go inside, following closely behind him.

Marik gazed up at the 10-foot ceilings and spiral staircase. "Art Nouveau? How did you know, Bakura? That's my favourite style."

"There's more," Bakura said vaguely, encircling his wrist with his fingers and tugging him into another room. "I noticed you liked Klimt's _The Kiss_, but I couldn't find any of his work nearby, so I had my own commissioned."

"Commissioned? What are you talking ab– oh my Rod! Is – is that us?" Marik gaped at the fresco that covered the entire back wall of this sitting room. Done in the style of Klimt, Bakura had had several artists paint him and Marik swaddled in a mosaic-looking blanket similar to that in _The Kiss_, Bakura's head bent over Marik's, their lips connected in a heartfelt smooch. Marik's jaw flapped. Speechless, he turned to his lover, who smirked smugly. "How long?"

Bakura shrugged. "It only took them a week to finish, but I had a whole team working on it nonstop. I knew you would like it."

"Like it? I don't like it. I love it! It's beautiful. You really do know me better than I know myself." He pushed up on his toes and kissed the Brit. Bakura lifted him, gathering him up in his arms, and carried him out of the room with steady, precise steps, still attached to his lips. Breathless, Marik asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"To the best part," Bakura whispered, kicking open a heavy wooden door and elbowing the light switch. Marik turned and gazed upon the wood-paneled room, taking in everything with incredulous purple pupils. In the centre of the room was a king-sized canopy bed with solid mahogany posts and a deep maroon comforter.

"Ba-Bakura," Marik gasped, "Is this ours? Our bed?"

"I bought it with you in mind." Bakura winked.

Marik giggled. "You're so bad, Fluffy."

Bakura stood in the doorway, holding Marik's thin body and gazing at him in silence. Finally, he said, "Everything's paid for. I've been working on this for quite a while. We can stay if you want, bring our stuff over tomorrow. It's your choice."

"I think we can live without our things for a night," Marik consented.

The real-estate lady cleared her throat as she walked up behind the couple. She averted her eyes as Bakura turned and glared at her. "Um, if you don't need me, I can leave you alone now. Unless you need a ride…"

"You can go. We don't need you."

The woman scurried away, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd already bought a house?" Marik griped.

"Because your face made it worth the secrecy." Bakura kissed his nose lightly. "Would you like to see more of the house?"

Marik smirked up at him. "I think I'd rather explore this room a little more."

* * *

**A/N: The end of the chapter so soon? No way! But if you leave a review, it will all be okay.**


	9. Bundled Solutions

_Disclaimer: I disclaim this show in the name of Italia._

**A/N: And at last I update the story.**

* * *

Before the light of morning penetrated the thick, maroon curtains of his new bedroom, Marik was out of bed and dressed, grasping the keys to his motorcycle tightly in his fist so as not to wake Bakura with the noise. Bakura, his arms suffocating a long pillow, was unaware of Marik's intentions, was unaware that his lover was about to leave with no explanation given nor a time of return. Marik's eyes lingered on the white silhouette of the Brit a moment longer before he closed the door silently and rode off into the night.

As his sleek, black motorcycle roared down the highway, Marik thought about what this course of actions might mean for his future – could he really sacrifice his oldest relationship for a newer one? Maybe he didn't have to – maybe he could come back later and ask for forgiveness. But no, he thought, this would probably be the end: the end of one chapter and the beginning of a new…

* * *

Marik pulled to a stop in front of the docks of a deteriorating shipyard. He took off his helmet and shook out his unruly, blonde hair, wiping the sea breeze from his cheeks. He glanced up as a tall, lumbering figure in a dark purple robe approached him from the shadows of a moldy supply shack.

"Do you have it?" Marik asked.

The man nodded, pulling a small, brown bundle from his cloak and offering it to Marik. Marik took it and tucked it into the storage compartment under his seat. It barely fit. "Right; as promised, you are free of your duties. You are no longer in my servitude. Enjoy your life with your girlfriend."

"Thank you, Master Marik," the man grumbled, bowing out and disappearing into the shadows once more.

Marik kicked his motorcycle into gear and returned to the open road as the Sun rose behind him and cars began to trickle into the streets. The wind was cold, perhaps bitter, as though it could relate to Marik at this moment of disgrace. He bowed his head against the wind, against the lips of something that couldn't understand him, against the pity of a truly free spirit.

"Your moaning and whispering won't change my mind," he informed the wind, "I've already made my choice, and I can't back down. It's too late." And he rode, into the Sun, away from the Sun, beside the Sun, and at length, under the Sun.

Marik's stomach roared against the lack of breakfast and the persistence of being ignored, but he couldn't stop, not yet. He floored the pedal and rocketed past the cafés and delicious aromas calling to him like the sweet voices of sirens, singing to his nose and his stomach, which fought against the skin of his abdomen as if against binds. Still, he ignored them all, concentrating on the task at hand, on returning to the one place he'd ever feel comfortable.

When he pulled into the driveway, an angry teenage boy ran out of the house with a murderous glint in his earthly eyes. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"I went for a ride. Can't I go for a ride without you scolding me like you're my mother?"

Bakura crossed his arms and sneered, "Not if you're going to sneak out before sunrise. Where did you go that you couldn't tell me?"

But instead of answering, Marik drove his motorcycle further up the driveway, into the garage, the automatic door shutting behind him and barring Bakura from following. Quickly, he unpacked the bundle from earlier and rushed up the stairs, into his bedroom, and hid it under the bed.

Just in time. He pushed open the wooden door and was immediately attacked by Bakura, who was even more furious than the time Marik had sprayed him with Silly String that turned out to have corrosive properties and ruined his favourite pair of pants. Marik tried to dodge around him, but Bakura fly-tackled him and trapped him under his body at the top of the stairs.

Pinning his shoulders to the floor, Bakura demanded, "Where were you?"

"I went to see Odion," Marik replied, "Down at the docks."

Bakura scowled in disbelief. "If that was all, why didn't you leave a note? Why did you leave before I woke up? Why didn't you take your mobile?" Bakura's face became very red, and Marik realized he needed to calm him down now.

"Bakura, your face is turning red. Let me up and I'll explain everything to you." He tried to reach up and stroke him, but the pressure on his arms was too intense, and he tried another approach. He put on a pained face – something he knew well – and whimpered, "You're hurting me."

Bakura hesitated, then jerked upright and released Marik. He backed off and retreated down the hall. Marik stood and followed him into the bathroom. Bakura leaned over the sink, his head bowed so that his mane of white covered his face, gripping the porcelain until his knuckles turned blue.

Marik lightly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Fluffy…?"

Bakura tensed, but did not brush him off, did not move to look up, remained still. At last, he took a deep breath and growled, "I thought you'd left me. I, I didn't know what to do. I – dammit, Marik!" Bakura turned on him with terrifying eyes, but it wasn't the anger in them that frightened Marik; it was the pain. "I didn't… I couldn't… if you weren't here…" A shadow fell over his face, and he turned away again, shoved past Marik and out of the room.

But this time Marik restrained him, forced him to pay attention. "Fluffy, I would never leave you. I love you; don't you know that?"

"Of course I do. But I… I mean, who could really love me? I'm not the kind of person people love."

"But you're the only person I love." He wrapped him in a hug and kissed him, his eyes, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, and finally his lips. "Bakura, I love you. I've loved you since we became friends, and I'll love you for as long as I know you. If there ever comes a time when I leave you, it will be when I die. But as long as I'm alive, I will be with you. Unless you need to poop. Then I'll wait for you. I will always wait for you."

The shadow passed from his face. Bakura leaned his forehead against Marik's, stared into his brilliant, indigo eyes. He searched their depths for any shred of doubt, but all he could find was love. He tilted Marik's jaw up delicately, holding his face with a supple hand. He tilted his own head and pressed his lips to Marik's, two clouds succumbing to the draw of a golden heaven. And Bakura whispered, "I love you, too."

Marik smiled, kissed him again. Their stomachs roared in unison. Marik laughed and proposed, "Let's go to Sonic."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I took so excessively long to post this. New chapter next month – guaranteed. **


	10. Birthday Sex

_Disclaimer: Despite my sincerest attempts to marry into the title, I will never be the owner of _Yu-Gi-Oh.

**A/N: I realized that I guaranteed you all a new chapter this month, and so I am ignoring all my friends and homework in order to fulfill my promise. And when Bob the Flying Monkey makes a promise, she never breaks that promise. Never. Except that one time.**

* * *

It was September 2. Marik knew what day it was. Bakura knew what day it was. And yet, it still alarmed the Brit when he awoke to the sight of his lover sitting on his abdomen with a neatly wrapped box in his arms. "For you," Marik smiled, holding out the present after Bakura rolled over and knocked him onto his side of the bed.

Bakura raised an eyebrow at him. "What's this for?"

"Your birthday, silly kitten. Don't you know when your own birthday is?"

"Marik, you do realize the body I'm in is a loner, right? I don't actually share a birthday with him."

Marik pouted. "Well, I didn't know when your other birthday was, so I made do with what I did know. Now stop complaining and open the darn thing."

Bakura smirked. "As you wish, Diva." Viciously, he ripped apart the package until its innards rested in his hand. Bakura's eyes flashed as he dangled the Millennium Necklace before them. "Marik, how…?"

The Egyptian averted his eyes. "Let's just say I made a compromise I'm not proud of. I know it's not much, but I promised I would help you with your evil plan, and this is my first step in helping you."

Bakura pulled the boy into his lap again, kissed him in the single sunbeam that pierced the room. "Thank you. Now go find the Key."

"But I haven't given you the rest of your birthday presents yet," Marik protested with a sly grin. He plucked the Item from his hand and set it aside on the foot of the bed. Then he pinned down Bakura's arms and straddled his lap, noting with pleasure the small pricks of perspiration beading the other's flesh. "Now, how old are you today?"

"Over 3000."

"Then my tongue is going to be really sore."

Bakura's eyes bulged. "Marik, what are you planning?"

Marik's grin grew wider at the panic is his voice. "You're about to find out." He dipped his head low, hovering an inch from the side of Bakura's face, and pushed his tongue out of his mouth. Then, when his plan became clear to the boy, who started to squirm, Marik dragged his tongue across Bakura's cheek. "One down, 3000 more to go."

"Marik, stop! That's disgusting!" Bakura flailed frantically under the body of his lover, who had to squeeze his knees into his sides to hold on. Marik cackled before licking him again. But Bakura was stronger, even in this fragile body, and finally managed to switch places with Marik so that he had him pinned instead. On top, breathing heavily, Bakura grinned with a mad gleam on his bright teeth. "Now I'm on top. How old are you, Marik?"

"It's not my birthday," he protested, but that and his struggling were useless.

"Last time I checked, you were 16, but I feel like being generous today." In the same, taunting manner, he bent his head and calmly licked the side of Marik's face, taking no precautions to limit his saliva output.

"Ew! Stop! I'll give you anything in the world if you stop right now."

"I've still got millions of dollars. I think I'm good for a while." He gave another long, drawn-out lick.

"No, I'll give you something money can't buy."

"But I already have your love. What else do I need?" Another lick.

"A toothbrush," Marik replied, sticking out his tongue and trying to battle the offending tongue.

"I'll get one as soon as you do."

"Hey! My breath is perfect, thank you. Yours, however, could use some work."

"I'll get right to it as soon as I'm finished." He went in for another attack, but at that moment Marik had managed to free one of his arms, and propelled him by the chest. Bakura struggled to pin his arm back down, but instead became too distracted and was pushed entirely off. The two boys stood on their knees on the bed, a stare down unfolding between them.

"Well, now I can't give you your other present, Fluffy," Marik taunted.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you not to lick me when I try. You may look like a cat, but that doesn't mean it's okay for you to lick me."

Bakura stuck out his tongue. Then he said, "But it's my birthday. You're supposed to treat me nice when it's my birthday."

Marik grinned. "You want me to treat you nice? Go take a shower."

Bakura groaned. "Why don't _you_ take a shower? You got the bulk of the damage in our battle."

"Or we could take a shower together," Marik proposed, something like danger flashing across his eyes. He held out his hand as a peace offering.

Bakura smirked, taking his outstretched hand. "That I'll do."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry the chapter was so short. I have a project and a speech due tomorrow, so I didn't have time to write much. Hopefully this will hold you over until I have more time.**


	11. The Continuation

_Disclaimer: The whether man says that my owning of _Yu-Gi-Oh_ depends on whether or not pigs fly. The weather man has not reported any instances of this so far. I suppose that means I still don't own it._

**A/N: Per request, I am continuing this. But don't get too excited – I'm only doing so because of a sequel I wish to write. Nonetheless, enjoy this psychotic use of my time!**

* * *

"Get up," Bakura said as soon as the alarm clock rang that morning. He threw open the curtains, but since there was no sun, he grabbed a flashlight and waved its beam in front of the sleeper's eyes.

Marik squinted at the digital clock next to his bed. "It's 5 am, Bakura! Go back to sleep."

"My riches have spoiled you. If you don't stop spending all your time in bed, you'll get fat, and I'll stop sleeping with you."

"No you won't." But Marik got out of bed anyway. He stretched his tan, fully naked body across the mattress and laid down face-first in defeat. "Five more hours," he said, but the comforter muffled his protests.

"Put these on," Bakura instructed, throwing an outfit down onto his back.

Marik snapped his head up. "Since when do you dress me?"

"Marik, we don't have time for your usual 3-hour morning routine. We have to be gone in 15 minutes."

"Why?"

"Clothes first."

Marik rolled his eyes, but obediently got up and dressed himself in the attire Bakura had given him. Once done, he strolled over to the floor-length mirror and studied himself. "Bakura, why am I dressed in all black?"

"We're going on a mission." Bakura stepped up beside him, wearing an identical outfit. He strung his arm around his waist and pulled the Egyptian into a kiss. "I'll explain on the way."

Marik's stomach rumbled. "Can't we get a bite to eat first?"

Bakura scoffed. "Grab a Pop-Tart on our way out the door. We'll eat after we finish."

"This had better be important. I was having a really inspiring dream. I was beating the Pharaoh, Fluffy! It doesn't get any better than that."

"Was I in it?"

"Yes. We celebrated afterward with victory-sex!"

"Then I agree. It couldn't get any better."

Marik followed Bakura down the main stairwell. "So, what is this mission that you woke me up before dawn for about?"

"Pop-Tart," Bakura reminded as they headed for the garage. When they were situated on Bakura's motorbike, he replied, "We're going out to get one of the Millennium Items."

"You found the gypsy-guy?"

"No."

"Then which one is it?"

Bakura revved his engine and peeled out of the garage, the door closing automatically behind them. The streets were completely deserted until they got out of the neighborhood, and only slightly less so on the main road. Over the roar of the bike, Bakura finally told him, "The Millennium Puzzle."

"Oh for Ra's sake. How many times have you tried and failed to get that? What makes you think you'll get it so easily now?"

"Because it's not in Yugi's possession anymore."

"What?! What do you mean it's not in his possession?"

Bakura grinned evilly, but Marik couldn't see that from his position strapped to his back. "I may have borrowed your Millennium Rod to control a certain Tristan to take it from him, since he won it and all."

"Wait, but the Rod only works on people named Steve."

"No, the Rod only works on people named Steve _for you._ For me, it only works on people named Tim."

Marik put his finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Tristan Timothy Taylor. Hmm, very interesting. I never would've thought the name changed based on the person."

"You know now."

"Imagine all the chaos we could create with this new knowledge! Fluffy, you and I will rule the world! Ah hahaha –"

"No time for that. We have to meet Tristan in the park before his friends figure out that he's not at home."

"Why would they be looking for Tristan at 5 in the morning?"

Bakura stifled his nausea before answering. "Because Joey's sister Serenity had a 'sleepover' at Tristan's last night. Without her brother's knowledge. But she left a note explaining this to Joey, which he should find at about 6 when he goes in to wake her up for some appointment they have. The details got kind of fuzzy after that – I was multitasking while controlling Tristan's body when I – or to her knowledge, he – seduced the girl last night. I swear if I weren't already gay, my efforts to persuade her to go home with him certainly would have made me so."

Marik tried to make sense of this. "So, you used Tristan's body to seduce Joey's sister, and she's sleeping at his house, and she left a note telling her brother… I'm confused."

"No, I left the note. I wrote it, but I made it look like she wrote it… To sum up, I'm instigating a fight between Joey and Tristan."

"And where is Yugi involved in this?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Yugi is the middleman. Joey will bring him in as backup. Although, if my plan goes well, Joey will beat the crap out of Tristan, and Yugi will be absolutely devastated that his friends are such scumbags. He may even throw himself out a window, though I can't imagine why he didn't realize how horrible his friends were to begin with."

Marik bit his lip, but decided arguing with Bakura would be a pointless endeavour, and instead hid his head behind his back so that he could eat his Pop-Tart without the wind stealing his food.

When they had arrived at the park, Bakura stopped his bike next to a bench across the path from a tree on which a tall, silhouetted figure was leaning. Dismounting, he whispered to his passenger, "Stay on the bike. I'll be back shortly." Then he strode over to the man and stretched out a hand, palm up. The figure stood upright rigidly, his face catching the light, and Marik saw that it was Tristan, as he had expected. Tristan pulled his hand from behind his back and held it up, dangling the Millennium Puzzle at eyelevel. He dropped it into Bakura's hand, and the Brit turned on his heel, walked back to Marik. Tristan turned the opposite way and disappeared into the night.

"I'm guessing he's going back to his house now," Marik said, watching the spot where he vanished.

Bakura nodded. "That's where I sent him. Come, let's go get breakfast."

* * *

**A/N: I had a stroke of inspiration, and am now continuing this so that I may tie it in with a sequel soon. Crossing my fingers that I will be able to update regularly.**


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